Duty, Responsibility, and Redemption
by Cringe
Summary: Rated for swearing. FMA angst drabbles, with some humorous ones thrown in...once in while...;) occasional spoilers, character studies, and character death(see chapter 2)All pairings (if any) RoyEd, warnings will be issued for Yaoi drabbles
1. 1

Ok, I had to re-upload this chapter cause some people were confused.  
To clear things up: _italics_ are Ed's flashbacks, still confused? stop by my LJ Username: keylah

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue. Are we on agreement?

Warnings:...ANGST!  
Notes: Ed's somewhere around 19 years. No spoilers. Can take place anytime on the FMA timeline.

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A little boy ran out of the watching crowd, darting after the pale haired braided figure in red that had walked away moments before, no one stopped him. Running after the person, his young mind was full of questions. He chases the figure, as it swiftly walks, taking them into the broad desert, far enough away that the village is just a medium sized collection of specks in the distance.

"Mister! Hey mister!" he calls

"_Hey! Mister! Wait! I need to ask you something!" a young boy yelled, chasing after the alchemist, leaving his protesting younger brother behind in the market place._

The person stops at the top of a hill, facing the village, and turns around, golden eyes intense as they look at the gasping boy halting in front of him, hands on his knees, panting.

_Golden eyes searching the older, more worn, one's carefully, the young 7-year-old face, framed with gold tendrils, puzzled, and questioning._

The person waits patiently, unusual for him though it was, the intense gold gaze softening ever so slightly. The boy reigns in his pants and gasps for air, as he begins to breathe easier.

Tugging on the red coat, that was now, perhaps, a bit too small on the slender frame it cloaked, he asks, "Mister, why do you do the things you do?"

The golden haired alchemist feels a vague sense of déjà vu of a buried memory.

"_Mister, why do you do these things?"_

_The man looks at him uncertain of what he means._

"_Why do you do it? If it hurts so many people?"_

_The man understands and smiles softly, with more than a little weariness," I do it because I have to."_

_The boy is still puzzled_

The alchemist smiles sadly, and clenches a hand tightly, the glove covering it simply masking the automail limb.

"I do it because I have to" because alchemists work for the good of the people

_"You don't have to do it, it's your choice isn't it?" The boy asked, still curious, and slightly angry_

"Why do you have to? It's your choice." The boy asks, his young brown eyes curious.

_"I do it because I have to"_

"Because I have to"

_"Why, why do you have to?" _

"Why do you have to?"

_"Because I need to" The man replies _

"Because I need to, because I made a mistake, because I have to fix it"

_"Why do you need to? Why not let someone else do it?"_

"Why? Why not let someone else fix it for you?"

_"Because I can"_

"Because I need to be the one to fix it, because I'm the only one who can"

_"I don't understand!" The golden eyes narrow slightly in anger and frustration. The answers were puzzles he could not solve._

"What do you mean? Stop talking in riddles!" The boy says, frustrated.

The alchemist understands, he knows how the boy feels, he's been in that position before, but he cannot explain it, there are no words that can explain the bitter and lonely feeling of duty and failure.

_"I don't expect you to, perhaps, when you're older, you'll understand" A sad smile, full of conflicting emotions, flits across his face as the alchemist turns away, and walks down the road that will take him out of Rizenbul. The small boy stands there alone in the moonlight, and puzzles over the answers. _

"You're too young. You wouldn't understand. Now go back home, it's getting dark" the alchemist softly replies. He watches the boy reluctantly trudge back towards the village. He waits till the boy reaches the outskirts of his home. Still facing the village, he slowly pulls off the glove of his right hand, and holds the automail limb, outstretched, slightly above his face. He watches the soft moonlight gently ripple across the smooth, flawless silver of automail as he flexes it, instead of the soft pink of human flesh and bone.

'You wouldn't understand' he had said, he speaks, once more, to the boy, whose ears will never hear his words "Hopefully, you never will" he adds softly, and sadly

"…_perhaps, when you're older, you'll understand" _

The Fullmetal Alchemist snorts in derision, the alchemist's last words to him ringing through his head, the sad, strange, smile, for a moment, obscuring his vision. He understands perfectly now, he understands everything the man had told him, he understands the smile, for he feels that exact same sad smile crease his features as he stares, transfixed, at the rippling moonlight on silver metal. His mistake, his responsibility, his to fix, his redemption, his duty and debt to his brother.

A cold wind blows, ruffling blonde bangs and a golden braid. He looks up, moonlight soft and bright silver, not unlike his automail, embracing his serene features.

"Hopefully you never will, hopefully, I can prevent you from ever understanding." He murmurs, his eyes slowly open, still looking into the bright moon, the small sad smile still lingers on his face.

Oh, yes, he understands now.  
And he wishes, now, that he didn't.

Understanding comes with knowledge  
Knowledge comes from experience  
Those with experience can never explain  
You must seek knowledge by yourself  
Yet sometimes, knowing everything isn't always the best  
Those with experience wish for the younger ones  
To never understand  
Rejection and suffering  
Betrayal and loss  
And the hollow pain  
That comes with Duty,  
Responsibility, and Redemption

OMG, so much angst cannot be healthy for me -spazzes- lemme know if I should turn this into a drabble series, if so, any name ideas? -still spazzes at the thought of being good at wrighting angst-


	2. 2

Drabble series it is.  
No one kill me for this drabble. Ok, if you haven't read FMA volume 4 or seen it's equivallent Anime episode, you won't understand the deeper context of the last sentences. So, go read/watch those and come back. Each drabble is an individual story, nothing carries on unless I specify. I have 1 request to make DRR a story, I'll consider, I have thought about it, if you do want DRR to become a story, comment on it at my LJ. Any drabble requests or questions or comments, can be submitted at my LJ. Username is Keylah.

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The report should have been sent 2 months ago and Roy Mustang waits impatiently and anxiously for news, any news, on Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. His head rests upon folded gloved hands, as the door creaks open, and Hawkeye walks in, face impassive, as she hands him a folder.

"Here's Alphonse's report Colonel" she says, face still unreadable, but…was there a slight tremor shaking her hands as she handed him the report? The face too blank? Were her eyes shining a bit to brightly?

Mustang is worried, _Alphonse's_ she had said, not _Edward's_

"What about Edward?" he asks, afraid of the answer

"…" Hawkeye bites her lip and shakes her head slowly from side to side, face shadowed, and Mustang lowers his head into shaking hands as he fights the tears that threaten to fall. Hawkeye remains impassive as strangled, desperate shouts of "No bloody way he can be dead!" "Bloody Hell Elric! Get your small ass in here right now!" and a howled "Damn you Fullmetal!" came from the shocked military occupants of the building Mustang's office resided in.

Everyone in Mustang's building was at the funeral, and many more. Many looked with pity at the large forlorn metal armor that stood beside the grave marker, a blonde haired girl beside him instead of a braided young man in red.

The grave marker was made of black stone, the shape was that of the black winged flamel that had resided on the back of the red coat that was draped across the wings. The epitaph simply read:

Edward Elric  
The Fullmetal Alchemist  
Age: 19 years  
Died in the field  
May he find peace in death

The armor's metal frame shook violently as the spirit within cried silently, unable to shed the tears that he desperately wished would fall. There wasn't a dry face to be found.

The Fullmetal alchemist is dead. And unlike at Hughes' funeral, it didn't rain. It flooded.


	3. 3

Gah! This is half-edited, so don't kill me for the crappiness, hm, more angst to come, I'm writing a sequel drabble to drabble 2...all my friend's fault for giving me a depressing poem involving someone dead. Is anyone who read the previous drabbles, still reading these? Just curious, b/c I like to know if you still are . Anyone want a sequel drabble to drabble 1? Just checking.  
Review Responses  
lazerducky27: Glad you liked! Updating fast like you asked! (oooo! it rhymes!)  
Midnight Unicorn: Thank You! Glad you thought it was well-written  
The Lightning Alchemist:...I'll sleep on that idea  
xxphatxbaybeexx: I reuploaded drabble one, if you're still confuseddrop by my LJ  
silent:tears:fall: That was my favorite line too The whole drabble was based on it.

On with the drabble!

Responsibility  
Inspirational sentence? The last line like usual  
By: Cringe aka keylah

Everyone has their burden of responsibility. The Mustang has his responsibility as a military officer and an alchemist to watch out for the people. Elysia, as a child, has her responsibility to be there for her mother. They all have their burdens, but they all get reprieve, they all have a moment when they can set down their packs, and breathe easy if only for a moment. Fullmetal can't do that. With every waking moment, with every breathe he takes, he is reminded of his responsibility. His self-proclaimed journey. He hears his brother's hollow, empty voice and is reminded that his brother cannot feel, cannot touch, without burning or freezing him with his armor. With every twitch of an unfeeling metal finger, every step of a heavy automail limb, he is reminded of his mistake. All have reprieve in sleep, the deep slumber in which one can relax and forget. All but Edward, as he sleeps, he cannot rest easy knowing his brother cannot truly sleep, cannot escape the lack of touch and sensory feeling by falling into momentary oblivion. He tosses and turns in his sleep, for if he stays still for but a moment, the weight of the automail limbs grow heavier and heavier, sinking into the mattress, telling him yet again of what he has to do. Every time, there is a reference to his diminutive height, he is reminded that he cannot truly grow until he has completed his mission, for his journey keeps him in the past. And everyone can only watch, as he perceivers through the hardships and barriers baring him from his goal, and watch him stumble from the heaviness of his duty, regaining his step more slowly each time. He keeps going and going, stumbling, then picking himself up once again.

Everyone watches him, worried that one day, he'll push himself too far, overreach his already stretched limits  
And when that day comes, they're afraid he'll fall and never get back up.


	4. 4

Drabble 2  
Title: D1  
By: Cringe

Archives: my LJ and FF . net  
Note: This is a wierd humorous angst thingy...(is there even such a thing?...well I guess there is now!) semi-sequel to Death(hence D1 or drabble/chapter 2)  
Warning: ANGST! what else? TWISTED angst!  
Disclaimer: Me no own...-sob-  
Summary: His fault, all his fault. That is the only thought that runs through his mind, his fault. He shouldn't have sent Ed, he _knew_ what could happen.  
A/N: Sorry, this has been posted in my LJ for about a week, completely forgot that I hadn't posted it here yet, Gomen. And I am a fan of multiple reviews! one, it lets me know if the previous readers are still reading!  
Reviewers: Thank you! Especially since I know angst isn't usually people's favorite genre, i'm flattered. :)

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The black haired man slumps over. A bottle of whiskey is clutched in his hand as his eyes flutter shut. He thinks nothing of it, nothing at all, after all, what is one bottle compared to the 6 empty ones that reside below his desk?

His fault, all his fault. That is the only thought that runs through his mind, his fault. He shouldn't have sent Ed, he _knew_ what could happen. He knew, but he never thought that it would happen to Ed, Ed was, was well, he was _Ed_, he wasn't supposed to die!

The man blinks blearily at the bottle, why was he drinking again? He wonders. The drunken foggy haze clouds his minds, when the answer hits him with devastating clarity, _Edward's dead_. He shudders, a choking sob emerging from his throat. If he remembers, then he hasn't drank enough. He chugs down the remains of the whiskey and slumps forward, unconscious.

_"Stupid baka colonel, you're going to drink yourself to death." The golden haired entity mutters, he pulls off his red coat and drapes it across the man's shoulders. "Not your fault I'm dead, was mine, I should've been more careful." He runs his hand through tousled hair"Bah, you're a mess" he sighs"well, I might as well stay round for a while, you all are a mess." He sighs again"Now I gotta go visit Al…Oh, and Hughes says Hi." He smirks… "And to make sure you take lots of pictures of Elysia" He fades away._

Roy wakes up blearily, and the echoes of a familiar voice drift towards him, _Not your fault I'm dead, was mine_

Had it been real he wonders? But only for a moment, bitter reality crashing into him, he reaches for an 8th bottle, and freezes. He feels a warm, solid, comforting weight on his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye he sees red cloth. Red cloth and a black flamel on the back.

He grins, a watered down version of a smirk. No, not his fault, he'd be sure to rub it into Fullmetal's face, the next time he saw him. Then he looks at his hand, realizing it was clenched around an unfamiliar weight. He looks at it puzzled. Why the hell was he holding a camera?

-owari-


	5. TiredWarning: This contains Yaoi

Review responses:  
lazerducky27: sorry this took so long  
Gozilla: Sorry, this one's short as well  
Chibi Haku: Nope these can be found no where but fanfiction. net and my LJ, except this one is also in a roy/ed LJ community. so's chapter 4, but I tweaked it so it was more RoyEd-ish,  
Duchess of Darkness: This almost became a Roy angsting/remembering/dreaming and Ed dead drabble TT yes I unfortunatly have a fix on that sorta thing.

A/N One last thing, if you visit my LJ, I don't mind but please sign with you pen name, it's kinda odd getting an anonymous comment without knowing how they found my LJ, thanks! Also, chapter 4 was edited, so there is also a RoyEd version of it, if you want me to load it into FF. net, just say the word.  
Ah yes, another thing :

WARNING: IF YOU DISLIKE YAOI LEAVE AT ONCE! I DO NOT TOLERATE FLAMES FOR PEOPLE WHO DO NOT READ WARNINGS!

Ahem, now onto Tired

Roy slowly unlocks the door, his hands fumbling on the ring of keys. Which one was it again? He peers at it, his eyes are fogged and blurry with exhaustion, his hands numb and shaking. Finally he gets his door open, though not without some difficulty. He steps into the cool darkness of the room, he's to tired to care about neatness and pulls off his jacket, throwing it onto who knows what, he'd have difficulty finding it in the morning, but he doesn't care. He slips off his military issued boots as he walks softly down the hallway, he's stripping down to his undergarments as he walks to the bedroom. He pushes the door gently, it's already open. The large bed in the middle has a lump on it, and he feels vaguely irritated at how comfortable Edward looks. He sits on the bed and pulls off his socks, he slides beneath the covers, melting into the warmth of the sheets. He begins to shiver slightly. He feels a warm arm drape over him, pulling him closer to the bed's other occupant.

"Hm, Taisa you're cold." Edward mumbles

Roy doesn't say anything, he's too tired to think, he lets Edward pull him closer. Edward curls his small body around Roy's, his arms and legs wrapped around the taller body sharing his heat, using Roy's chest as his pillow. Roy distantly realizes that the automail is warmer than he is, but he's warm now, so he doesn't really care. His tired eyes look at the soft golden strands that are spread out on his chest where Edward's head rested. He checks to make sure that Edward is really asleep before raising one hand to his lovers hair, gently playing with the bright gold locks, feeling the run through his fingers, as silken as water. His arm drops down onto the bed with a soft thump. As he slowly drifted off to sleep, the soft contours of golden hair following him into his dreams.  
-Owari-


	6. 6

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I was busy. So I switched to Al angst, to give Roy and Edo a break. However next up. More Roy angst :) ...well...maybe my face should be more like this :( Anyway, does anyone want me to write them a drabble? I'm running out of prompts and the plot bunnies are on a sugar high.

The shadows shifted across the floor, engulfing one another in their darkness. They moved, silhouetting a large armor. The armor does not move, yet he does not sleep, he is anything but inanimate. He does not sleep, how can he? Armor is metal, it does not sleep, nor does it require rest, It's iron head turns, and the eyeholes are anything but soulless. They gleam with a bright inner white light. Reflecting the bright spirit within. Should you look into those blazing eyes, as bright as a new born star, if you look deeply enough, you can see the vague form of a sandy-haired boy of about 14. The armor cannot sleep, he passes the long nights in solitude. He cannot help but dwell on dark thoughts. The armor cannot cry, no tears of sorrow will fall down the shining metal. And he has so much to cry about, to much to sorrow over. When one does not sleep, the night is long. The night is long and lonely. The armor is tired of being alone. He's tired of being alone at night when the shadows creep. They not only creep at night on the floor, they seep into his heart.  
_Brother _He thinks _Brother, I'm tired of being alone at night._


	7. 7

A/N: Sorry it took so long. Ok, so Hughes angst, and next Winry angst. No idea when I'm going to pot it though, it was written for someone but I'm not going to post it till they get back from their trip so I might not update for another week or so...  
Disclaimer: Nope don't own'em

No one had known why Hughes had been such a doting father. Well, they knew that, but what they hadn't known was the reason for his obsession with pictures of his daughter. They never understood even after his funeral. No one understood, but Roy. He knew that the reason. He knew that Hughes had known that he could possibly die long before his daughter grew to an adult. He knew the reasons for the pictures, and the shoving. They were so people remembered him as a father, rather than just another military man who was killed in the line of duty. He knew that they were for his daughter, for Elysia, so she would know how much he had loved her that he hadn't wanted to leave. The pictures were a symbol of his love, and all who had seen them could not deny it.

No, no one knew the reason for the pictures till one day, a little 9 year old Elysia cried, "Daddy left me, because he didn't love me!"

Owari-


	8. 8

A/N: I finally got off my lazy butt and typed this up. Sorry for the delay

"Ok Edward. Bye"

Click-

Winry set down the phone. The tap ringing through the tense silence. They were hiding something from her. She knew it, and it sent a pang through her chest.

Shaking her head, she pulled her tools and spread them out on her workbench. Ed had, once again, broken his arm.

If she couldn't help them search, then the least she could do was to build Ed a good arm. She thought determinedly. If she couldn't be with them, she would feel safer knowing that _her_ automail would be their in her stead.

Her sight blurred a little and she rubbed her face eyes angrily. Someone must have put onions in her vicinity. How _else_ could she be crying? It wasn't like she was crying for those stupid, selfish, and…and…

Her hands dropped to her side limply.

Who was she kidding?

They wouldn't cry. One couldn't, and one wouldn't. So she'd cry for them.

Plip

And the heavy sound of rain and thunder echoed through the small house.

Owari-

Alrighty, who's next in line for emotional turmoil? Someone give me a character quick! -evil grin-


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